


I Think We're Alone Now

by fabfemmeboy



Series: Sincere Baked Goods [5]
Category: Glee
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-20
Updated: 2017-12-19
Packaged: 2019-02-17 06:50:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13071408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fabfemmeboy/pseuds/fabfemmeboy
Summary: While Kurt had often thought he might be part of a hidden relationship, he never in a million years thought he would be the one insisting on secrecy.





	1. Chapter 1

Given the number of openly-gay guys in town - exactly one - Kurt had long suspected that, if he was even fortunate enough to find someone before he left Ohio, he would probably be the dirty little secret on the side. He wasn't wild about the idea but recognized it was a distinct possibility.  
  
When he had thought he might be part of a hidden relationship, he never in a million years thought he would be the one insisting on secrecy.  
  
* * * * *  
  
Kurt couldn't pinpoint exactly when his "I Feel Pretty" had become his go-to shower song. He knew it was sometime after Puck brought him the diet pop but before his French midterm, but any more specific and he couldn't remember. It was as though West Side Story had spontaneously replaced Gypsy almost mid-song, and while he had no doubt that the song would change again once the Burlesque soundtrack came out, it felt kind of nice to begin every morning belting Sondheim classics that applied positively to his life for once.  
  
He supposed he should just be glad the song that fit his life wasn't from Sweeney Todd.  
  
 _I feel pretty, oh so pretty,  
I feel pretty and witty and gay-_  
  
He refused to kowtow to the heterocentricity of the new lyric - "Pretty and witty and bright? Any girl who isn't me tonight?" Please. If the lyric was good enough for Natalie Wood to lipsynch, it was good enough for him to sing.  
  
 _-and I pity any boy who isn't me today.  
I feel charming, oh so charming  
It's alarming how charming I feel  
And so pretty that I hardly can believe I'm real._  
  
He toweled off his hair delicately, since he was  _not_  about to fall prey to the male-pattern baldness plaguing both sides of his family any earlier than he absolutely had to, and began his morning skincare regimen. While less intensive and time-consuming than the evening one, it was just as important. He flicked on his iPod as he got ready so he could continue the song to accompaniment.  
  
 _See that pretty boy in that mirror there?  
Who can that attractive boy be?_  
  
Even he wasn't vain enough to sing that line without feeling like he should be laughing at how ridiculous it sounded. He always contemplated skipping the entire B-section of the song for this reason, but with his voice rapidly dropping he wanted to ensure he sufficiently worked his falsetto range as often as possible to make sure he didn't lose it.   
  
 _Such a pretty face, such a pretty dress, such a pretty smile, such a pretty me-_  
  
He still needed some new lyrics to put there, if only because he didn't wear dresses. One bondage kilt once, one sweater-dress over pants and a tie J. Alexander-style. No dresses. There were some lines even he didn't feel the need to cross.  
  
 _I feel stunning and entrancing  
Feel like running and dancing for joy  
For I'm loved by a pretty wonderful boy!_  
  
He often contemplated whether there should be a comma in the last line. After all, was the song saying that the boy in question was pretty wonderful, as in...wonderful enough? A decently-great guy? Or was the boy both pretty  _and_ wonderful? Puck would kill him for thinking either adjective about him, Kurt knew, but there wasn't really a good way to sing "For I'm loved by a studly and ba-ad-ass boy!"  
  
Grinning at the thought, he pulled his pre-selected, pre-ironed outfit from the closet and got dressed. Yes, he had fallen kind of hard. He knew it, even if he was trying not to let Puck know that part just yet. Now that he knew his advances weren't unwelcome, he let himself get giddy at the thought of sitting behind Puck in Spanish class or watching him sing during glee rehearsal. He didn't feel even remotely bad fantasizing about the guy - both sexually and stupid little things like hanging out at Puck's kitchen table and eating ice cream with him and his little sister on a Saturday evening. The thought of the calories involved made him feel more guilty than the domesticity or presumptuousness.   
  
What? He was entitled to want to see the guy who had agreed to kind-of-sort-of date him, especially since Kurt knew the lack of calling it dating had nothing to do with him and everything to do with Puck being stubborn and not using that word to describe any relationship he'd been in.  
  
Hair styled and boots laced, he turned off the iPod and slipped it into his pocket, then wiped the stupidly-happy smile off his face and walked upstairs into the nearly-silent kitchen. His father sat at the table in his work clothes, reading the sports section and waiting for his breakfast. Since Kurt had put the kibosh on Burt doing any cooking since the man seemed incapable of  _not_  flagrantly disobeying the doctors' orders, mornings had all started to look like this. "Sorry, Dad, just-"  
  
"Caught up in singing?" Burt asked gruffly. The basement was better at stifling noise than a regular bedroom would be, but not good enough for how loud Kurt was sometimes.  
  
"Yeah." He desperately hoped his father wouldn't follow up on what the song was or why, then remembered that was beyond unlikely. His dad hadn't asked stuff like that since before the heart attack, before the arrhythmia, before what the doctors swore wasn't actually brain damage but certainly felt like it these days. Kurt began making egg-white omelets for each of them; after checking with the doctor four times, he'd finally started allowing his dad a little bit of low-sodium soy cheese to stop the whining.   
  
He was sick enough of tense mornings - and evenings, and weekends. The last thing he needed to add was more fighting. His dad was sick of him despite coming around to everyone else's offers of help again. Carole in particular - they were better than ever. His dad even let the guys at the shop help a little, though not as much as he should have, which came as a surprise to everyone. But around him...  
  
Part of it was his own fault, Kurt knew. He had a tendency to push too hard, to hover too low, and for every time his father snapped at him it was probably because he was treating his father like a toddler instead of like a grown man. He understood that. But at the same time he felt almost cheated.  
  
A year ago he could have told his dad why he was happy. A year ago, he could have actually been demonstrably happy outside the confines of his basement. His dad would have wanted absolutely no details, but that was fine with him - they would both die of embarrassment anyway. But ever since the conversation where not only had his father backed up Finn's secondhand version of the crush and essentially used it to explain away his soon-to-be-stepbrother's homophobic outburst, but had outright stated that he might be taking advantage of Sam's naivete and he shouldn't date anyone until there was someone as out-and-proud as he was...he needed to stay more silent about whatever it was he and Puck had at home than he did at school, which was saying something. And that was without even considering Finn's reaction.  
  
Now, though, between the grousing over a lack of hot sauce for his eggs and grumbling about wanting coffee - "Real coffee, not that fake decaf stuff. May as well drink brown water." - Kurt kept his mouth shut and felt his shoulders get tighter and tighter to the point where he felt like he needed a deep tissue massage so his head and neck wouldn't twist off like the top of a dandelion.  
  
Instead he just wrapped up his own breakfast to go and left early for school on the off chance it meant having a chance to say a casual hello to Puck before first period.  
  
He hung out at his locker, glancing over his shoulder every so often as the halls slowly filled with tired students. Outwardly, for all intents and purposes, nothing was different - he was still the solitary gay kid who was more than a little bit of a freak. For everyone to know that he and Puck were friends was risky enough, he wasn't about to bring the whole dating thing down on them both for a couple reasons. First, Puck would end up punching someone the first time he got called a homo, and he was still on probation from the ATM incident. Second, and the one Kurt was having a hard time explaining away...he knew that the jokes about him "turning" Finn had started pretty early. Finn was a jackass and a barely-secret homophobe, Kurt knew that, but that point was still well-taken. If the guys at school thought he had the power to turn someone gay, he would go from being merely a loser and a freak to someone actively threatening to their sexuality. Let alone when they realized he had "recruited" not just any guy, but the posterboy for heterosexual promiscuity...  
  
He'd be a dead man, just as much as Puck, if any of this got out.  
  
Puck kept telling him not to worry about it, but  _one_  of them had to and Puck didn't know any better about this stuff yet.  
  
He hated that Finn had been right more than he hated having to conceal his happiness at school - he was used to hiding much more than that.  
  
"Morning Kurt," Mercedes tossed in his direction as she fumbled with her lock. She was so not a morning person. When Kurt didn't respond, she actually looked over at him.  
  
Dreamy eyes. Checking over his shoulder every five seconds. Humming Celine Dion.  
  
"Kurt," she said again, and this time he heard her.  
  
"Good morning, Mercedes."  
  
"Okay, who is he?" she asked dryly.  
  
"What?"  
  
The boy was a horrible liar and even worse at pretending to be oblivious. "You're waiting for some guy to walk by. Which one?"  
  
"I have no idea what you're-"  
  
"You were humming 'The Power of Love.'"  
  
"It's a classic," he replied simply. "I...just found the files again for the 'Colour of My Love' album, it had been misplaced under My Documents-"  
  
"Right," she said dryly. "So who's the guy?" As she saw Sam most of the way down the hall, her eyes widened. Kurt was big on his themes, if he was singing songs from a 1993 album because of the hair someone had in 1993, it wouldn't be the strangest thing he'd ever done. "Tell me it has nothing to do with Linda Evangelista."  
  
Kurt almost laughed. "Nothing whatsoever," he promised.  
  
"Is Finn-"  
  
Kurt's look became somber so quickly it probably could have broken records - if records existed for that kind of thing. "Beyond over," he stated firmly with a venom that made her want to ask what happened; she didn't dare.   
  
"Hey."  
  
At the sound of Puck's voice, Mercedes saw Kurt stiffen - but not like he thought he was going to be dragged down the hall for a swirly. His fingers tightened around the notebook he had clutched to his chest, and he stood up even straighter than usual as if trying to gain a few extra inches of height. Everything about him screamed 'trying to act cool' as he replied, "Hey," with a forced casualness.  
  
Puck kind of smiled but kept walking, which is when Mercedes' eyes about bugged out of her head. "Have you lost your mind?"  
  
"What?" Kurt replied...He was going for 'innocently' but ended up at 'caught red-handed.'  
  
"Puck is never gonna happen." When he just smirked and looked away, she added, "He's so much about his reputation he was willing to use  _me_  to get it back, then kept tossing people in dumpsters to 'restore social order.' He knocked up Quinn while she was still dating Finn and he was sleeping with half the squad. And I'm pretty sure he's had sex with the mother of like 90% of the kids in this school."  
  
He tried to avoid thinking about that as much as he could. He knew Puck wasn't the monogamous type - a fact Puck had been more than upfront about - and he was okay with that, but he didn't need to picture just how many women that meant. Just knowing there was some amorphous quantity out there was plenty for him. "And?"  
  
"Look, I get why you'd like him even if he's kind of an idiot and physically can't stop himself from being offensive. But if he finds out you're crushing on him? You better start hiding your good clothes now."  
  
He was trying so hard not to laugh that he thought he might explode. And what good was having a boyfriend - even one who didn't really like being referred to that way - if you couldn't share it with your best friend? He drew in a deep breath and said, "Come with me a second."  
  
"Where?"  
  
"I want to tell you something but don't want to make it public knowledge." When she looked skeptical and didn't move from her locker, Kurt pulled out his phone and quickly typed out a text, then hit send. Mercedes' phone was already out when the text arrived.  
  
 _Puck and I are dating._  
  
"You're  _what?_ " she asked. He supposed he should just be glad she didn't shriek it down the hall. He nodded, barely repressing a smile. "Since when?"  
  
"About a week officially, I guess?"  
  
"Uh huh. And unofficially?" He was definitely not saying  _that_  one out loud, but since Mercedes didn't seem to be into the idea of him dragging her into an empty room to give her details, he started to text it...but he wasn't sure how to consolidate everything that had happened into the 160 characters his text platform would support.  
  
 _He came over while Dad was in the hospital, then I visited him in juvie, then we worked on the duet._  
  
"You do know that's not dating, right? Not like I have any more experience in it than you do, but...him being a nice guy, while really weird and everything, doesn't mean he's stopped being straight."  
  
"Trust me."  
  
"Like I trusted you on Finn?" He looked hurt by that, and she quickly added, "I just don't want you to spend the next year obsessing over a guy who's not going to even look at you because you're a guy. Puck's straight. Uber-straight. As straight as they-" He shook his head and hit ‘send.’  
  
 _There's been sex._  
  
Okay,  _there_  was the squeal he'd been waiting for. She slammed her locker shut and dragged him into the first empty classroom she could find. "Are you kidding me?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"And you didn't tell me?" she demanded. "Why didn't you tell me?"  
  
"Mercedes, it wasn't personal - it's complicated. I...the first time did not end well, so I assumed it would go down as the most epically-bad decision in history, lead to a few weeks of additional football-team torture, and-"  
  
"Wait - first time? That means-"  
  
"Yes," Kurt replied shortly, blushing a little. "So when after the first time he ended up in juvenile detention for reasons that may or may not be related, I went to see him - to apologize, and he said he wanted to do a duet with me. Then he got out and he texted me on a Friday night, and-"  
  
"You got a booty call...from  _Puck_?"  
  
"No. Well...yes. But it was more than that, Mercedes, it was...we stayed up all night working on our duet and talking about music. And even though he'd never heard of Sunset Boulevard and he thought Ethel Merman was the neighbour from I Love Lucy, it was..." 'Nice' was the wrong word, and not just because Puck would never allow the word 'nice' to be used in conjunction with his name. It was wholly inadequate, especially in a world where clothes were either fabulous or a crime against humanity. 'Nice' wasn't even second-rate cashmere, it was merino wool in a boring pattern. Spending all night with Puck was...so much more than that, but 'lovely' was too much and 'magical' sounded ridiculous.  
  
He didn't need to supply an adjective so Mercedes could understand - it was written all over his face, even if he tried to hide it. "I wish I could say I wasn't surprised, but to be honest the guy's kind of not who I pictured you with."  
  
"And just who did you picture me with?" Kurt asked defensively, arms crossing over his ribs. "Finn?" He practically spat the name. "Or- or no one, right? Because I'm the only openly-gay kid in this town, so I wouldn't-"  
  
"Would you calm down?" she asked dryly. Kurt's bitchy freak-outs weren't unusual enough to get a stronger reaction anymore. When he fell silent, she continued. "I never thought that. AndI don't know who told you that, but it's obvious someone did." He didn't say anything, just looked away. "No, I pictured you with...I dunno, someone equally fabulous. A guy who knew Broadway and had heard of Alexander McQueen."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Because that's what you like - it's important to you."  
  
"It's not the only thing that's important to me," Kurt said tightly.  
  
"I know that. Why do you keep sounding offended by everything I say? If I ever find a guy, I wanna be able to talk to him about the stuff I like. I figured you'd have an edge - I'm not gonna find many straight guys who watch Vampire Diaries or Project Runway." That got a faint smile from him. "Puck's kind of a video-game freak and obsessed with sports. What are you two gonna talk about except all the stuff you don't get about each other?"  
  
"Somehow it works," Kurt replied softly. He didn't get it either, and true - somewhere in the back of his mind, in the little fantasy world he'd created where he got the perfect boyfriend, there was plenty of cuddling in a gorgeous loft apartment while watching Style network and spending the weekends shopping in Chelsea and taking in Broadway shows. But with the kinds of guys he tended to be attracted to, a part of him knew that wasn't likely. His crush on Finn, the start of a crush on Sam, what he felt now for Puck...there was something about the masculine all-American guy that sent his heart reeling. While he desperately wanted  _friends_  who liked what he liked, he realized, he never expected to date someone who was into the same things he was. Masculine guys didn’t tend to know Tyra – or Patti Lupone.  
  
"Look, I get how much he can be...charming and make you forget you don't really want to like him. And I'm happy if you're happy," she said.   
  
Kurt caught sight of the clock on the wall and started towards the door. "Thank you," he said sincerely.  
  
"But you're keeping this secret from everyone - including me? It's not okay for him to tell you to do that because he's concerned about his reputation around here. You are too fabulous to hide away in the back of his closet. And you’re way too good of a catch for the down-low."  
  
"He's not the one keeping our relationship a secret," Kurt stated quietly. "I am." He walked to his first class before Mercedes could ask why.  
  
* * * * *  
  
He was already closing his locker when Quinn walked over. "I need to talk to you."  
  
"Why?" Puck didn't bother to conceal his annoyance. She didn't want to give him the time of day normally, she flaunted her relationship with Sam all up and down the halls, but now that she had some bug up her ass she was going to get all demanding?  
  
"Kurt."  
  
That stopped him. His stony expression faltered a moment before he asked, "What about him?"  
  
"I know."  
  
He thought about denying it, but he honestly didn't want to. Kurt was the one being all weird about people finding out -  _he_  didn't care. He was still Puckasaurus, even if he was dating a dude. People didn't like it, that was their problem and they'd pay for it, simple as that. "How?"  
  
"Mercedes told me. Kurt told her this morning."  
  
So Kurt really was trying to keep this thing quiet, huh? Since everyone knew Mercedes couldn't keep a secret. But he'd only told her  _today_? They'd been screwing around for more than a month, they'd been kind-of dating or whatever for like a week, and Kurt was just now telling the chick he told everything? "Yeah?"  
  
"Yeah," she said, touching his arm and looking up at him with those big eyes he'd always kind of liked more than he really admitted to anyone.   
  
"And?" he shrugged as he slung his backpack over his shoulder.  
  
"And...I don't know. I thought I should say something. I'm not going to go around telling anyone else-"  
  
"I don't care if you do."  
  
"No, but he does," she said. "Mercedes said he told her he was the one keeping all this secret, and I don't know what that's about but-" She hesitated, then charged on. "He hasn't done this before. You've been around the block with everyone in this school-" When he raised his eyebrow and smirked, she acknowledged, "Myself included, and oh how well  _that_  turned out. I know he has the same walls up as we do, but he's a lot less sure of things than he wants everyone to think he is. He's a sweet, kind of naive guy, and everyone knows what you do with sweet and naive. If you hurt him-"  
  
"I don't exactly plan on it," Puck replied casually as he strode down the hallway.  
  
She stood in front of him and blocked his path. "I don't care if you plan on it. You never plan on doing whatever it is you do, you just kind of fall into it. I'm saying - if you hurt him? I'm using every last bit of clout and social power I have at this school to end you, even if it brings me down too. You got that?"  
  
He really was sick of everyone thinking he was going to be the bad guy. He'd had to practically chase Kurt down before the dude got that he wasn't gonna get tossed in a dumpster. Kurt was the one who didn't want to tell anyone, but he still got the bum rap from all of it. He just rolled his eyes and walked past her down the hall.  
  
* * * * *  
  
There were times he was very glad his father was as free-range as he was. As long as Kurt made it home by curfew, helped out at the garage when he was asked, and didn't buy any more jackets on the credit card without putting up the cash first, his dad pretty much let him come and go as he pleased. It was useful - especially given that Puck's mother was driving his car since he'd crashed the Volvo, so that even on the rare occasion he didn't need to watch his sister, he couldn't go hang out at Kurt's without asking Finn for a ride or something.  
  
Kurt didn't want to think about how much worse it was going to get when Finn and Carole moved back in. Concealing the relationship from his oblivious father was frustrating but not impossible. Concealing the relationship from Finn who, while also oblivious saw both of them more often, was going to be pretty difficult.  
  
He'd selected "Sound of Silence" as Puck's ringtone and always managed to pick it up by the eighth note of the opening riff. Puck was not a long or eloquent texter, and his spelling left something to be desired, but it was better than Artie's "I'm too gangsta for my texts yo" style or trying to decipher Brittany's.   
  
 _house 2 myself til 10 get over here._  
  
Hard to argue with that. His dad was having dinner with Carole, and his homework was mostly done already, anyway, so he quickly threw on his coat. Snatching his keys from their hook upstairs, he strode - okay, sure, he could call it that even if a bystander might call it more of a sprint - to his car and drove over to Puck's.  
  
It wasn't so much that he was desperately horny, though he had to admit Puck did have a way of making him want to end up without any pants on. He couldn't explain it, he just knew that seeing Puck kind of made his day...brighter somehow.   
  
God. He had it  _bad_. He would've cared more, but  _Puck_  texted  _him_  to come over. That had to be a good sign, right?  
  
He barely made it through Puck's front door before the taller boy pushed him against the wall and kissed him. After a moment to get over the surprise, his arms snaked around Puck's waist. Puck pulled back slowly with a grin that was as genuine as it was self-assured. "Hey."  
  
"Hi," Kurt whispered, smiling.  
  
Puck wanted to ask about Kurt telling Mercedes, and he wanted to relay how concerned Quinn looked for him and how funny it was. But that was talking, and he didn't really do that - it sounded totally lame on him. Besides, there were more important things to attend to.  
  
They hadn't fucked in like, six days. That was clearly too long.  
  
He threaded his finger through one of Kurt's beltloops and tugged with the intention of leading him over to the living room, but Kurt protested and pulled away. "These are D&G."  
  
"So?"  
  
"So if you rip them I'll shave a mohawk in an area sure to cause mockery."  
  
Puck got the message and let go, though he did look annoyed and like he was indulging Kurt only for what he would get in return. He wasn't disappointed as Kurt followed him to the living room and sat on the couch. A flick of his eyebrows and Kurt shifted to lie down along the length of the couch.   
  
Perfect. Kurt was apparently easily trained but would still fight him. Someone who wouldn't fight him, he'd get bored with - he knew that much from experience. Someone who stood up to him to prove they could be more of a punk than he could - Santana came to mind - could be fun, but at the same time he didn't want to make everything a damn power struggle. Kurt showing up immediately but kinda squealing about his freaky pants? He could go with that. It made things kinda interesting.  
  
He planted his hands in the narrow sliver of couch on either side of Kurt's head as he climbed on top of him - he didn't want to crush the guy or anything - but pinned Kurt's hips securely under his own. He smirked as he saw Kurt casting a sideways glance at his guns; worked almost every time. The fact that Kurt looked like he wanted to rip off both their clothes immediately was kind of awesome, too, and while he definitely wasn't one for taking things slow - why waste time on that crap? - seeing Kurt all impatient and desperate like that was kind of a turn-on. After all, it meant he'd melted the ice queen with the flames of the Big Puckhuna. Total ego-boost. He was too hot for the most uptight, self-controlled person he'd ever met to resist.  
  
He rolled his hips against Kurt's and they groaned into each others' mouths at the contact; even through at least two (probably three) layers of fabric, the feeling of their hard dicks rubbing together was electric. Kurt's arms wrapped around his back, his fingers clutching at Puck's shirt as he tried to get closer. When he tried to pull away, Kurt's grasp tightened. "Clothes?" Puck asked with a 'seriously?' look.  
  
"Right," Kurt replied looking a little sheepish as he released his fingers from the folds of Puck's tshirt.  
  
Puck sat back to pull his shirt over his head, and Kurt did the same. He stood, legs quivering just a little, and quickly removed his pants that were apparently important and silky-looking boxerbriefs that Puck was sure cost more than anything in his own closet. They resumed their positions on the couch, though Puck shifted to his left side to leave his right hand free to slowly, almost teasingly, stroke Kurt's dick. "Don't want you to come too soon - I have plans," he smirked. Kurt's eyes closed and he whimpered softly.  
  
The sound of the door opening wasn't nearly as loud as the click of the door closing, and Kurt quickly tried to sit up. "Who's that?" he hissed.  
  
"Hell if I know," Puck replied as he leaned in for another kiss, but Kurt pushed him away. He did  _not_  want to meet Puck's mom - or little sister, or anyone else who could reasonably be in the house - this way, but he wasn't sure quite how to find his pants and put them back on before-  
  
...before Santana walked in?  
  
"Hey," she said, sauntering in. Puck stood, quirking an eyebrow. "I see you're ready for me," she said, nodding towards his excessively tight jeans.   
  
"Get lost."  
  
"What?" Kurt was doing his best to lie as flat as he could against the couch, hoping that the arm would help conceal him. Maybe the bad floral chintz would be distracting enough...  
  
"I'm busy."  
  
"With who?" she demanded, and though Kurt couldn't see her he knew there had to be a bit of Santana's neck roll to accompany that tone of voice.  
  
"Just busy, okay?"  
  
She brushed past him and walked towards the couch, and Kurt frantically tried to cover himself. There was no afghan within grabbing distance, and his hands were proving an inadequate replacement. He wasn't sure which was worse - the simultaneously disgusted and kind of turned-on look she gave him as she looked him up and down, or the fact that he could see from that angle that she wasn't wearing anything beneath her Cheerios skirt. "This is new," she said, glancing over at Puck. Puck just shrugged. "Not bad, though. I've gotta say, I always expected something...less." Her snotty smile of approval made him feel like he needed to go take a shower. At least Brittany was just kind of oblivious and sweet, this was...ew. Just ew. Puck leaned against the entrance to the living room, hands in his pockets, and Santana crossed the few feet to him - making sure to flounce her skirt just a little on the way to make her choice to lack certain clothing as obvious as possible. "Let's go upstairs," she suggested before giving Puck a hot, open-mouth kiss.   
  
"Kurt's here."  
  
She turned to look over her shoulder at him. "You can totally watch. I like an audience."  
  
Speaking of 'ew.' He reached down to try to snag his pants, but Puck's voice stopped him.   
  
"He was here first."  
  
From the look on Santana's face, it was the first time she'd ever been told 'no' in her life. "But I came all the way over here."  
  
"Yeah, well, you shouldn't have. I asked him to - you just kinda showed up," Puck pointed out. "Could come over tomorrow or something."  
  
"Don't bother - I wouldn't want to take time away from your gay orgy or something," she snapped and stormed out.  
  
"The hell's your problem?" Puck asked but received no response except for the front door being slammed. He didn't get what her deal was. He'd gone over to hook up with her before and been kicked out so she could go screw Brittany, and she only let him stay to watch a couple times - usually she kicked him out because Brittany's mom was weird about boys being upstairs with the two of them. Not like Santana didn't have at least 10 other guys she could go see if it was a blue balls thing, either. Or whatever it was called with girls since they didn't have balls.   
  
"Does that happen a lot?" Kurt asked.  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"Santana barging in on you with someone else. I would imagine with your wide variety of paramours, it wouldn't be the first time."  
  
Puck thought. "No. She did show up here while I was at Quinn's, though."  
  
"That would've ended badly," Kurt offered awkwardly.  
  
"Did anyway." Puck shrugged and sat on the couch beside him, then smirked.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Wow. You  _really_  don't like chicks, do you man?" he asked, nodding toward Kurt's completely-soft dick.   
  
Kurt wanted to disappear into the couch - and, he noticed, Puck seemed to take a little too much enjoyment in that fact. "More being caught than anything else. Though she wasn't wearing anything under-"  
  
"I saw."  
  
"I bet you did," he replied dryly.  
  
Puck cupped his groin and pressed Kurt back against the couch. "Let's see what we can do about that," he grinned.


	2. Chapter 2

Kurt was used to bracing himself at school. He knew how to fall into the dumpster at the least painful angle while still protecting his clothes the best he could. He had gotten good at drawing in a quick deep breath before his head got dunked into the toilet without the swirly-perpetrator noticing. He had long since learned that the correct response to seeing a projectile was to squeeze your eyes shut because everything but water burned (and it was  _never_  just water), and he had gotten so used to the moment before the slushie hit his face that he swore they weren't as cold as they used to be.  
  
  
So when he saw Santana walking down the hall with her biggest 'Don't fucking mess with me' look, he drew in a deep breath and stood up as straight as he could, then put on his very best 'Bitch, please' disinterested expression. "Santana."  
  
  
"Shut it, Paul Lynde." She slammed his locker door and narrowly avoided hitting his fingers - pity. "Back off. my man."  
  
  
"He's not just yours," Kurt pointed out and, though it was against his self-interest to acknowledge, added, "You share him with pretty much every woman in town.   
  
  
If his goal was to piss her off more - which it kind of was - it worked. Her eyes narrowed and her expression turned even more sour. "You think in three months he's even gonna acknowledge you? He's gonna get whatever the hell 'exploration'-" She actually used air quotes, which Kurt found kind of amusing "-out of his system. But you're still gonna be gay, and then  _really_  no one's gonna like you." She gave a smile that she didn't even pretend was genuine. "Because the guys in glee? They're gonna follow him. And the Cheerios? Well, they're gonna follow me. I'm in charge."  
  
  
"Actually you're not. Nice boobs, by the way," he smirked.  
  
  
"You think any of them listen to Quinn anymore? Please. Coach Sylvester's just using her to get funding. They do what  _I_  tell them to, so if I tell them to, I dunno, start tripping you on your way down the center aisle so Coach kicks you off the team? They'd do it. Then it's back to you and the two people at this school who don't think you're a loser. But if you back off now..." She rubbed her hand slowly down his upper-arm. He plucked it off and moved it away, which earned him a glare. He rolled his eyes and walked down the hall. "At least Finn wouldn't know."  
  
  
The problem with being used to bracing for things, he realized, was that when you didn't see something coming you had no idea how to react. Or at least, how to react without looking surprised.  
  
  
He was just glad his back was to her, but even he couldn't deny that she had to have seen his back stiffen, the hesitation followed by speeding up his pace. He could practically feel her smirking behind him.  
  
  
Puck could be a very difficult guy to find when he was trying to hide from teachers who might force him to actually go to class. Kurt finally found him hanging out over by the entrance to the locker room. "Hey."  
  
  
"I need to talk to you."  
  
  
"Okay."  
  
  
"Not here," Kurt stated, casting sideways glances at the variety of guys who could - and would, and in many cases did - kick his ass.   
  
  
Puck gave a 'whatever, dude' look and followed Kurt around the corner to a more secluded area. "Yeah?"  
  
  
"Santana."  
  
  
"What about her?"  
  
  
"You have to call her off," Kurt stated urgently.  
  
  
"You have to relax," Puck replied flippantly. "Yeah, she's kinda a bitch. Whatever. It's not news."  
  
  
"And she'll take down whoever she can if it elevates her. Or even just because she wants to, really," Kurt added. He'd been on Cheerios with her long enough, he'd seen the way she and Quinn fought for titles and status in ways that made "Mean Girls" look downright civilized.   
  
  
"What do you care? If I don't, and it's a lot bigger news about me than about you-"  
  
  
"First of all, it's not just about you. And I know you won't understand that until everyone finds out because you're used to being on the other side of all this but it was never your style. Second, there are at least two good reasons to keep this quiet, but there's a third, even better reason standing right down the hall."   
  
  
Puck followed Kurt's gaze. "When are you gonna stop caring if Finn likes what you're doing? I thought we could agree-"  
  
  
"That he's a jerk, yes. That he's so homoparanoid he makes the guy who killed Larry King look reasonable sometimes, absolutely."  
  
  
"The dude with the suspenders?"  
  
  
Kurt wasn't sure whether to be pleasantly surprised that Puck knew who that was, or annoyed at the interruption. "A kid who was shot in his lunchroom at school by the boy he had a crush on. That's not the point. The point is he has power over me-"  
  
  
Puck didn't want to hear about Kurt's stupid crush anymore. Not like he ever wanted to hear about anyone's stupid crush on Finn, or their wanting to get with Finn, or their freaking fantasy futures where they were married to Finn. "I thought you were over-"  
  
  
"He could tell my dad," Kurt blurted out. When Puck just stared at him, confused, he added, "With our parents dating, he's around all the time, and on all things gay my father apparently now listens to Finn over me - expressly over me. If he starts saying how I-" He looked to see who else might be listening and dropped his voice to a whisper. "-How I 'turned' you or pursued you until you said yes because you didn't know better-"  
  
  
He was starting to understand why Kurt was so fucked-up about all this, but it still didn't make any sense. "Dude, everyone talks about how cool your dad is. How he comes and fights for you and stuff. And you talk about him like he's the most awesome guy ever." Truth be told, he'd been kind of jealous the way Kurt talked about his dad. Not like he'd ever admit that, but when some dude's talking about how his dad can be totally badass by standing up for you and your dad was a badass because he punked out, it kinda hits a nerve.   
  
  
"He is- He was. I don't know. All of that was before the heart attack and the..."  
  
  
"...damage and crap," Puck finished quietly  
  
  
"Right." Kurt's voice was tight; he was not going to get into that here, not when he still had 2/3 of the day to get through. Spending all week sobbing when his father was actually in the hospital and not waking up was one thing, kind of borderline acceptable. Spending a couple classes on the verge of tears because he was afraid his father would insinuate that he was taking advantage of Puck when he'd been so careful to let Puck make all the moves out of fear of doing exactly what he would be accused of - that would just make him even more pathetic than he already was, in the eyes of the student body. He might get into it later, given the right prodding and context, but even that wasn't likely. "Suffice it to say that his initial acceptance has given way to something a little less fully-supportive, and if Finn decides he wants to spill over family dinner, I don't even want to- I really don't need to deal with that right now."  
  
  
In all honesty, he wasn't sure he could  _take_  that right now. Even assuming Puck didn't run for the hills, which he couldn't guarantee just yet, he knew he didn't have the energy for any more intensity right now. It had been a hard enough autumn already.  
  
  
"I'll talk to her."  
  
  
"Do whatever you have to do," Kurt stated, making clear that he knew full well what he was suggesting. Not like that wasn't something Puck was entitled to do just for the fun of it, but sometimes it could be taking care of business in addition to fun.  
  
  
"Bet I can get her out to her car after lunch," he mused, and Kurt held up his hand.  
  
  
"I know what it is you're planning on, and I'm fine with that, but please - don't ever give me details." He walked down the hall towards his class.  
  
  
* * * * *  
  
  
Puck strutted towards Santana's locker. Santana was reapplying her lipgloss, hip thrust out to one side, while Brittany fixed her ponytail. "Hey," he smiled in his most 'You know you want some of this' way. She looked up at him with complete disdain then went back to talking to Brittany. "Santana."  
  
  
"No, come over tonight," she told Brittany, casing a snotty sideways glance at Puck. "I've been kinda craving the taste of your...lipgloss," she added with a flick of her eyebrows.  
  
  
"I think Puck wants to ask you something," Brittany observed flatly.  
  
  
"Yeah?" Her neck bobbed sideways and she tilted her head. "Yeah, no."  
  
  
"What's your problem?" Puck asked.  
  
  
"My  _problem_? Is that you went all Brokeback up in here and decided you'd rather screw him than have this," she said, raised index finger gesturing.   
  
  
"What? I'd let you watch."  
  
  
"Ew."  
  
  
"That'd be hot," Brittany stated. "Do you like his soft baby hands?" Even though Santana looked at her like she was crazy, she added, "He's a really nice boyfriend."  
  
  
Well, Puck thought sarcastically, as long as  _Brittany_  approved, that was all they needed, right?   
  
  
"Until you stop opening his ass, my legs are staying closed - to you," Santana added with a deliberately sexy look at Brittany that was entirely for Puck's benefit.  
  
  
If there was one thing Puck didn't like, it was people trying to tell him what the fuck to do. Didn't matter what it was or why - if someone attempted to get him to do whatever it was they wanted, his first instinct was to do the opposite. That went double if someone tried to manipulate him into it instead of demanding outright.  
  
  
So he decided to call her bluff. With a shrug and his best disinterested expression, he replied "Okay."  
  
  
Her eyes widened then quickly narrowed to a glare that he knew would be accompanied by a pissed-off neck roll. He never knew Latin girls could do those til he met Santana, and hers was totally better than Mercedes'. She slammed her locker door and stepped up close to him like she was seriously stupid enough to contemplate trying to fight him, then walked away - her ass swaying deliberately so he'd see what he was missing.   
  
  
"He likes duck fat," Brittany informed Puck...helpfully? ...before scampering after Santana.  
  
  
Puck shrugged and walked down the hall towards his next class. She'd come crawling back in...three days? Maybe five if she was really pissed and found another guy to screw in the meantime. Whatever.   
  
  
He didn't know when Kurt had learned his schedule or whatever, but when he came out of his classroom Kurt practically pounced on him. "Well?" he asked tightly.  
  
  
"What?"  
  
  
"Is she-"  
  
  
"Whatever. She's Santana."  
  
  
"So it didn't go well, I take it?" Kurt had one arm across his chest, the other belt at the elbow while he examined his nails.  
  
  
"She'll cave. She always does."  
  
  
"Doesn't do us much good in the meantime." Kurt let out a soft sigh. "Too late to do anything about it now, I suppose. Rien de rien, non, je ne regrette rien."  
  
  
Puck stared at him. "English, dude."  
  
  
"It's Edith Piaf." When Puck's blank look didn't change, Kurt tried to explain. "The famous chanteuse? La Mome Piaf? Little Sparrow? "La Vie En Rose"? ...Nothing?"  
  
  
"You want me to start throwing out football terms or something?" Puck threatened.  
  
  
Kurt instead started explaining. "She was a French singer shortly before World War II. She was discovered in a nightclub in Pigalle where she sang for a pimp in exchange for him not forcing her into prostitution. Her nickname..."  
  
  
Puck didn't know what the hell Kurt was talking about, but he kinda didn't care. For one thing, it wasn't like he ever paid that much attention when the person he was messing around with was talking. Rachel was the biggest example but not the only one. For another, if it got Kurt to calm the fuck down, it could only be good, right? He could pretend to care. Kind of. A little. At least enough for people not to notice. It worked on teachers, anyway.  
  
  
Neither of them noticed Santana weaving her way skillfully through the crowded hall to her target. "Better get used to having Puck around again," Santana said slyly as she crossed behind Finn to stand on the other side of his locker.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Well, your mom and Kurt's dad are getting married, right?"  
  
"Yeah, but...what's that have to do with Puck?"  
  
She rolled her eyes - sometimes he was too dense for his own good. Really, sometimes he was too dense to even be properly manipulated, which was her real problem. "Look at them," she said, nodding over her shoulder, and Finn did as she said. Puck was leaning back against a locker about halfway down the hall, arms crossed over his chest, as Kurt talked about something that was obviously not of particular interest to him - Finn was fluent in Puck's eyebrows. And even though Kurt still seemed kind of uptight like he usually did, he seemed more like he looked around Mercedes or Tina or someone. Not around Puck, who had kind of tortured him for a couple years.  
  
"When did they start being friends?" he asked, confused.  
  
"They're a lot more than friends," Santana replied snottily. "But at least that part could be kinda hot - at least if I was allowed to join in. But this? With the looking like they actually  _like_  each other and don't want to pummel the other one into the ground? It's just gross."  
  
"What do you mean, they're more than-"  
  
"Oh, wake up, Finn. They're having sex."  
  
"They-...wait,  _what_?"  
  
"Sex. I know you know what that is."  
  
"But Puck is..."  
  
"Straight? Yeah, I thought so too. Apparently your little brother changed his mind." She walked off, more than satisfied with herself, looping her pinkie through Brittany's when she passed the blonde in the hall.  
  
Finn stood at his locker, watching his best friend - ex-best friend - and brother - well, not-quite-stepbrother - talking. Puck shoved himself up off the lockers and walked away without any kind of display of affection. That meant Santana was wrong, right? Except Puck didn't exactly go around making out with Santana in the halls, either, or Quinn even when they were sort-of kind-of dating. So maybe-  
  
Puck was thumbing away on his phone, texting someone - probably Santana, Finn concluded. Maybe Sam or one of the other guys on the team. His hands stilled, then Kurt pulled out his phone and blushed so red his neck actually blended in with his jacket.  
  
Dude. No way.   
  
Puck smirked back at Kurt, then kept walking down the hall with a badass strut.  
  
  
  
Finn grabbed his books and tried to catch up to Kurt, but the top of his fedora kept bobbing just out of range. "Kurt!" he called finally.  
  
  
Kurt turned to face him looking...like he usually did. His cheeks weren't pink anymore - well, no more pink than usual - and the kind of giggly, scandalized expression he'd seen from across the hall was gone. Maybe he really had imagined all of it. "Yes?"  
  
  
"What's going on with you and Puck?"  
  
  
"Nothing," Kurt replied coldly. Kurt seemed as annoyed with him as he usually did these days, Finn concluded. Ever since the Sam thing Kurt had been sending icy glares across the dinner table at him and kind of avoiding him whenever he could, and then it got worse after the duet with Puck...and the fight after that...and okay, so no wonder Kurt looked like he would rather be anywhere else.   
  
  
"Santana said-"  
  
  
"Santana's a conniving, scheming, manipulative Cheerio who would stop at nothing to get what she wants," Kurt stated. "She's probably just mad at Puck and convinced this is the way to get back at him. I'm going to be late."   
  
  
That didn't make any sense. Why would she tell  _him_  something about  _Kurt_  if she was trying to get back at  _Puck_? And why would she pick that to make up? Unless she was trying to make him look bad to the whole school, but why tell him and not someone like Jacob who would make sure word got around?  
  
  
By the time he realized how many holes there were, Kurt was nowhere to be seen and counting his blessings that Finn was dumb enough to fall for the explanation even a little.  
  
  
* * * * *  
  
  
He should have known something was up when Rachel made a beeline for him as soon as he walked into the choir room. "Puck!" she smiled warmly, wrapping her forearm around his. "I think it's fantastic. Really great. I'm already arranging dinner with you and my dads."  
  
  
"What?"  
  
  
"I have to admit, I'm a little surprised - your reputation does kind of precede you, but I do have excellent gaydar and registered-"  
  
  
"I'm not gay."  
  
  
Rachel looked confused. "But- but aren't you and Kurt-"  
  
  
He knew Kurt didn't want to make it a thing, and he knew Rachel couldn't keep her mouth shut, but she already knew from  _somewhere_  and no one who was already in the choir room seemed shocked by what she was saying. Meaning they probably knew, too.   
  
  
He didn't lie. Not saying something was one thing, but being asked a direct question and lying wasn't cool. "Yeah. So?"  
  
  
"So...you're at least a little," she pointed out. "Or bisexual."  
  
  
"Whatever," he shrugged. It was one guy, he wasn't really gonna label that. He was still a straight stud even if he was dating a dude and not trying to hide it. If other people didn't get it, that wasn't his problem. Of course, knowing Rachel, she was going to try to drag him to some gay parade or something now or think it meant he gave a shit about musicals or shopping or crap like that. He brushed past her to take a seat, and whenever someone looked in his direction he gave them his best 'back the fuck off' glare. It worked for the most part.  
  
  
Until Kurt arrived.  
  
  
His arms were loaded down with books even though he had his bag on his shoulder - probably for a project or something, the guy was kind of a freakish overachiever, which Puck realized could have some advantages if he ever decided to turn in an assignment and wanted Kurt's help. He bet Kurt would totally do it for the right price. Tina rushed over and took some of the books, then gave a little "omigod" kind of gush with a big grin.  
  
  
"What?" Kurt asked. His eyes darted nervously in Puck's direction, and Puck shrugged with a look that said 'sorry, dude, I tried.'  
  
  
"You and-"  
  
  
He stared straight at Mercedes, his eyes narrowing into a glare. Anger was the way to keep from being hurt. Angry was much more effective. Anger, loathing, destructive urges - they worked for Puck, right, and that guy never seemed to be hurt by stuff. And if ever a person deserved to be angry... "You told-"  
  
  
"Only Quinn," she smiled, looking like she was over the moon happy for him.  
  
  
"You  _told_ -"  
  
  
"No one else," she defended. "And Quinn didn't tell anyone."  
  
  
"Then how-"  
  
  
"Oops," Santana said sarcastically from her seat, arms crossed over her fake chest that Kurt had the sudden urge to try to smash.   
  
  
He was so upset he could barely see straight, torn between wanting to flee and wanting to order Mercedes and Santana into a death match since he wasn't allowed to hit a girl. Mercedes would win, he was certain, and have just enough scratches from Santana's kind of crazy nails to make up for her telling someone when he told her expressly not to. He wanted to scream, or cry, or run away and never show his face here again.  
  
  
He had been keeping it secret for a reason and no one cared. No one got it. No one understood how much shit was going to rain down on them now that- Because there was no way that all twelve of them could keep a secret. Especially not with Santana bent on revenge.  
  
  
"Why do you look so upset?" Tina asked, confused.   
  
  
"Yeah, dude, what's the problem?" Sam asked.   
  
  
Finn walked in, smiling, then stopped as he surveyed the room. "What's going on?"  
  
  
"Kurt and Puck have finally confirmed their relationship," Rachel relayed proudly with a grin in Kurt's direction.  
  
  
"What relationship?"  
  
  
"Apparently they're dating," Artie reported.  
  
  
"How long has this been going on?" Finn demanded, fists clenching at his side. As he took a step forward, Kurt practically threw himself into Finn's path. "What did you  _do_  to him?" he demanded, and even though Kurt tried to hide it he looked as if Finn had hit him...but resigned at the same time, like he knew the punch was coming.  
  
  
"He didn't do anything to me," Puck replied from his seat.  
  
  
"You couldn't leave him alone, could you? It's like you're pathologistical or something-"  
  
  
"Pathological," Rachel supplied.  
  
  
"Whatever, you can't just accept that straight guys  _don't like you_ , Kurt! Jeez, what's next, you're gonna try to break up our parents so your dad can date Puck's mom-"  
  
  
"Finn. Back. Off," Kurt said. His voice was tight, straining from the weight of trying to hold back tears, but the punch behind each word was undeniable.  
  
  
Why wasn't someone else stepping in? Kurt wondered. If it were the two guys fighting about one of the girls, wouldn't someone say something? Try and diffuse the situation? ...Maybe not, he realized, they had all kind of let Finn slug Puck over the Quinn thing, though he supposed that one was deserved - at least a little, even if his loyalties were firmly with Puck these days. But everyone in that room knew that if Finn charged forward to get at Puck, there was no way Kurt was holding him back for more than a split second. They acted like they were happy for the two of them, but they didn't care if Finn tried to beat the crap out of Puck?  
  
  
Tried, indeed. Puck would win in a landslide but look like the bad guy doing it.  
  
  
For once, however, he was certain of one thing - it wasn't his status as an honourary girl that was keeping Finn from kicking his ass. The only thing strong enough for that right now was fear of the wrath of Burt Hummel. Kurt supposed that, now that Finn was on his dad's good side again, he probably didn't want to wreck that too badly by punching him...even if it looked like Finn almost wanted to.  
  
  
"What do you care? Not like you wanted him, right?" Puck added with a distinct edge to his voice. "All you ever talk about is how you didn't want anything to do with him but he wouldn't back of." Kurt knew somewhere this was supposed to be defending him, but it wasn't working very well. "Whatever, dude, that's up to you - but you trying to say who he can and can't talk to? If I didn't know better-"  
  
  
"Puck," Kurt warned sharply. There was no way that fight could end well and it made him feel like he might be sick.  
  
  
"How long?" Finn demanded again.  
  
  
"Couple months," Puck replied.  
  
  
"When your dad was- was in the hospital? Jeez, Kurt!"  
  
  
"Like you have any room to talk - you were praying to a stupid sandwich about getting to touch Rachel's boobs!"  
  
  
Well, that got the room's attention diverted for a few seconds. He'd be dealing with the fallout of that from Rachel later, he had no doubt.  
  
  
"What'd you do, go over and-"  
  
  
"Hey,  _I_  went over there," Puck defended.  
  
  
"He drove a car through a plate-glass window to get away from you but you kept-"  
  
  
"Just shut  _up_  already!" Kurt pleaded. "Can't you just be happy I'm not pursuing you and leave me alone?  _Now_  who doesn't know when to back off?"  
  
  
Finn lunged forward, and Kurt squeezed his eyes shut, preparing for the onslaught. He hoped his nose would remain intact. Black eyes would heal eventually, but any kind of bone damage would require a rhinoplasty and he didn't want to-  
  
  
He was knocked sideways and fell, but Finn was far more interested in fighting Puck than him. Now people got involved as Mike and Sam pulled Finn backwards.  
  
  
"Woah woah woah - what's going on?"  
  
  
Mr. Schuester's entrance was lamentably late.  
  
  
"This is twice in a week," he said, looking at the two of them. Seeing Kurt on the floor and Finn looking like he was ready to tear Puck limb from limb, he said, "Puck, my office. Finn and Kurt...you guys go home."  
  
  
Unfreakingbelievable. Puck barely restrained himself from rolling his eyes when Mr. Schue could see. Finn freaked out, tried to kick his ass and spent the whole time blaming Kurt for everything, but he got off scott free and he and Kurt were supposed to be buddies...and everyone blamed  _him_  for it.   
  
  
Satisfied that Finn wasn't going to throw himself at Puck again as soon as he was released, Sam let go of the arm he was holding and extended a hand to help Kurt up. Kurt took it and stood, brushing off and straightening his clothes fussily. "Thank you," he said quietly, eyes stinging.  
  
  
"Don't worry about it," Sam said, but the way he looked him in the eye let Kurt know he wasn't just talking about the expression of gratitude.   
  
  
Kurt nodded and turned to Puck. He didn't know what to say - he wanted to apologize for everything, to point out that this is why he wanted to keep everything quiet to begin with, to ask if Puck was okay, to say he wanted desperately any reason to not be at his house on Friday night. He opened his mouth but nothing came out.  
  
  
"Kurt. Let's go," Finn commanded from the doorway.  
  
  
He locked eyes with Puck for a moment, then gathered his books and brushed past Finn. Walking as quickly as he could down the hall, he didn't care that Finn took most of the length of the corridor to catch up. He sniffled hard, trying to keep himself from starting the real waterworks until he was far, far away from his stepbrother.  
  
  
Finn couldn't take a hint. "Hey-"  
  
  
"Don't," Kurt replied sharply. "Don't talk to me."  
  
  
"Look-"  
  
  
"If I could get away with never seeing you again, I would. Unfortunately for both of us, you're about to become family so I'm going to be stuck sitting across the table from you until I can get out of this pathetic excuse of a town in two years. So until then, as long as I'm stuck seeing you at school and glee practice and home? The very, absolute least you can do is not try to talk to me."  
  
  
Finn had the good sense to do what Kurt said - not like he really wanted to talk to him right now, all things considered.  
  
  
They were almost to Finn's house when Kurt spoke again. "I suppose you're going to tell my dad? Or tell your mom who will inevitably tell my dad?" When Finn didn't give a negative response, Kurt shook his head and let out a soft almost laughing sigh. How was this his problem? How had this become his life? Why couldn't he just enjoy the first really good thing to happen to him in a long time?  
  
  
* * * * *  
  
  
He hadn't been this nervous since the night he came out.  
  
  
He knew logically that it was ridiculous to be this scared, especially since it wasn't like he was going to get thrown out of the house for this - which had been a real, if not entirely legitimate, fear during the other conversation.   
  
  
Under ordinary circumstances, he probably could have even taken the idea of his father's disapproval with a grain of salt; after all, teenagers were supposed to date people of whom their parents didn't approve, right? It was a rite of passage, and while he tended not to invest much in those since he knew he wouldn't get to have quite a few of the standard ones - slowdancing at his prom, wild weekend parties with a big group of friends, a legally-recognized marriage...he was hardly the first person whose father would think they were dating an unworthy punk.  
  
  
But it was deeper than that, and he couldn't ignore it.   
  
  
A year ago, the conversation would have been awkward. It would have involved both of them trying to exchange as few details as possible, but would have ultimately come down to the question "Are you happy?", and when Kurt answered "Yes," that would have been enough. There might have been a demand that the suitor come to dinner for a proper introduction because Burt wanted to make the guy squirm, but all of that would have been standard. Par for the course of being a teenager with a dating life.  
  
  
Now, though...  
  
  
His father's words echoed in his head every time he thought about dating, and he hated that. He hated it so much he wanted to scream - he wanted to hate his dad for putting the words there but he couldn't because this was his dad - the same dad who had torn Finn a new one over one little slur.  
  
  
He knew with absolute certainty his father wouldn't approve - not just because Puck had previously been his tormentor and was kind of a punk that parents never really liked; not even because Puck was the (at least partial) cause of the Finn-and-Quinn breakup.   
  
  
Puck was straight. Even now he maintained that, and Kurt didn't feel a particular need to change that admission - he could handle being the .001 of Puck's Kinsey 1.001, that didn't bother him in the least. But his father would see it differently.  
  
  
He over-spiced the chicken and managed to almost ruin the broccolini because he couldn't pay attention to anything. By the time he finally set dinner on the table, he was a nervous wreck. He just couldn't handle his father saying it was his fault - not this year. Not over this. Not when he finally felt happy and  _normal_  for the first time in- he couldn't even remember.  
  
  
His dad showed up at the table right on time and Kurt sat across from him. Burt took a bite of the chicken and made a face. "There any pepper left in the house after this?"  
  
  
"Sorry, Dad, must've gotten carried away," Kurt replied meekly, staring at the tabletop.  
  
  
"What's with you tonight?"  
  
  
"I...I need to tell you something."  
  
  
Burt expected his son to just say it, so when no words came he offered, "Okay."  
  
"I'm dating someone."  
  
He hadn't intended to say it like that. For one thing, he was afraid of giving his dad another heart attack. For another, it seemed so...it felt like just kind of tossing the information out there, like handing someone their present in a Target bag instead of wrapping it properly. But he couldn't help it, the words just kind of tumbled out.  
  
The look on his father's face was somewhere between surprised and uncomfortable, which was about what Kurt had expected for that portion of the news. "Okay," Burt said slowly. "How long has this been going on?"  
  
"A couple weeks now. But it's been building since...since around the time you were in the hospital."  
  
Burt's eyes narrowed as he thought. "That new kid in glee club you talked about? What was his name? Sean?"  
  
"Sam? No. No, he's dating Quinn Fabray. So, y'know. Not on my team after all, at least...not entirely," he added jokingly. He still had his suspicions that Sam wouldn't be adverse to at the very least a blowjob after a beer or two, possibly more than that, but that wasn't his concern for now - even if Puck's teasing comment about Sam's mouth did stick with him.   
  
What? He was dating, he wasn't blind. Or dead.  
  
"So who is this kid?"  
  
Kurt felt his throat tightening up. Of course that had to be one of the early questions. He couldn't have sufficient time to ease into it, talk about how great Puck was and how happy he was first - of course not. "P-" He cleared his throat and tried again. "Puck."   
  
"That's a name now?"  
  
"Noah Puckerman," Kurt clarified.  
  
"Hang on - the guy Finn was friends with until he stole Finn's girlfriend and got her pregnant? The one who punched him a week ago?"  
  
His father wasn't happy, that much was painfully obvious. "Yes," he stated, hating how much lispier his pronunciation got when he was nervous or upset. "That was over me, actually."  
  
"How was it over you?"  
  
"Finn wanted me to stay away from Puck, and Puck told him it was none of his business."  
  
"Why did Finn care?"  
  
"Because he thought I was hurting Puck's reputation simply by being seen with him. He volunteered to do a duet with me - he was-" Kurt quickly edited himself; no need to tell his dad that the guy he was dating had just gotten out of juvie, even though he knew his father had been no angel as a teen. "-absent during the assignment, and he wanted to-"  
  
"He wanted to or you asked him?" Burt asked dryly.  
  
There it was. The question he'd been dreading in exactly the tone he expected. The same accusation Finn had leveled more directly that afternoon. "He asked me," Kurt stated firmly. "Every step of the way,  _he_  asked  _me_."  
  
"Why are you upset?"  
  
"Because I'm sick of everyone acting like I'm some kind of predator for daring to like someone! He came on to me, and I kept apologizing to him for it. I was apologizing to him practically every time I kissed him-" His father grimaced "-because I was so convinced that I was making up signs in my head. You and Finn both, you said everything last year was my fault for having a crush and not fighting to hide it even though he never said no. He never told me to back off, that I was making him uncomfortable - not once." He could feel his eyes stinging, and his voice was starting to rise to the point where it sounded almost like he was speaking from the falsetto break. "And because of that I felt like everything I thought I saw with Puck, everything he asked me- like I must have forced him into it somehow. Like I was doing something unfair to  _him_  by being willing to accept his advances."  
  
"Of course it's fine to accept someone's advances - if you wanna, y'know, date them or something," Burt said slowly. "What's this about, kid? Because I remember talking about you and what you were doing to Finn last year, but-"  
  
"I didn't do anything to him!" Kurt exploded. "That's the entire point. I didn't do anything to Finn, and I'm not doing anything to him now but he still-" He couldn't have this fight now. He couldn't recount the afternoon and listen to all the ways his dad would turn that into his fault, too. "I-...I'm sorry, Dad, I need to go for awhile, I can't-"  
  
"Hey." The firm voice was accompanied by a hand on his shoulder. "Sit down." It was the voice that meant he had no patience for dramatics tonight, and Kurt couldn't help but feel like the sullen tween he had avoided for the most part. "What I said was that you needed to lay off the straight guys. Guys like Finn, y'know, they don't know how to take a guy hitting on them. Especially if they're a halfway decent kid - he didn't want to be a jerk to you so he didn't really say anything, then he snapped."  
  
He couldn't believe it. His father was seriously explaining away that entire night. "Unfreakingreal," he mumbled, shaking his head as he crossed his arms over his chest. Calling the room 'faggy' because he had made it was seriously now his fault because he had been faggy in Finn's general direction six months before.  
  
"Well, we gotta talk about this sometime. He was uncomfortable 'cause you kept after him - not saying what he did was right, but he-"  
  
"Yes you are," Kurt whispered, closing his eyes. He wanted his dad back -  _his_  dad, the one who had said Finn using that word was the equivalent of calling Becky a retard or calling Mercedes the n-word. The dad who had fought for him to get to sing Defying Gravity and hugged him after the Rose's Turn catharsis. "You're saying he did it because I made him uncomfortable, but that he was right to be uncomfortable. Because being gay is fine as long as I'm gay far, far away from him, like that's some consolation. Like the fact that he didn't say it sooner means he's tolerant?" He shook his head. "He and Puck got into a fight again today, but he wouldn't tell you or Carole that part. I had to stand between them and he just kept asking what I'd done to Puck and for how long. He keeps making it my problem that I'm dating someone who's not him while making it painfully clear he would never want to date me and I made him uncomfortable when I liked him."  
  
"Why'd he ask what you did to Puck? Or...don't I want to know?"  
  
Kurt sighed and drew in a deep breath before responding, "Puck's straight."  
  
"I don't understand."  
  
"He's straight, he dates women - a lot of women, he's the resident McSteamy. Somehow he likes me, I...I don't know why, but he does. He doesn't think I'm toxic. But because of Finn-" 'and you,' he added silently "-I feel like I am."  
  
"Of course you're not toxic." Burt shifted. "Look, I don't get what this is, and I don't really know how to have this conversation. I don't wanna make it sound like I think you're taking advantage of this guy - he sounds like he can more than hold his own - but I dunno about you dating straight guys."  
  
"Well, you're my father and there aren't any gay men in town who would be of an appropriate age to try and convert you," Kurt said bitterly.  
  
"That's not what I meant, stop taking everything that way. I'm worried about you. At least another guy who's, y'know."  
  
"Gay."  
  
"Yeah. At least another guy who's gay, if he breaks up with you, it's not gonna be because he gets spooked the first time someone calls him a homo," Burt said, then added, "Not that every guy you date's gonna break up with you or something."  
  
"I tried to warn him. He maintains he doesn't care."  
  
Burt studied his son carefully. He looked so...hopeless. Not even depressed, just kind of like he felt like nothing was ever going to change for the better. Burt didn't like that look - it made him nervous. "I hope it stays that way," he offered, but he wasn't reassured by the weak smile Kurt cast in his direction.  
  
He didn't want his son getting hurt, was all he'd been trying to say. Finn freaking out and throwing a few slurs around hurt some feelings, but no one's life was in danger. The wrong kid suddenly got uncomfortable with Kurt being that close, or with everyone thinking he and Kurt were that close, and Kurt could end up in the hospital or worse. He was never sure if his son got how real a possibility that was - he knew Kurt hid some of the stuff at school from him, but the way his kid walked around without any hesitation, no inclination to hide...no way he could get the gravity of it all and still be that self-assured and in-your-face about everything, especially when it came to having a crush on a straight guy.  
  
Or his son was a lot fucking braver than he realized.  
  
"Hey." Kurt looked over at him. "He make you happy?"  
  
A wistful look passed over Kurt's face, and the red-rimmed eyes filled with tears that didn't break. His lip quivered as he whispered, "Yes."  
  
That was all he wanted. For his kid to be happy and safe. All any parent would want - it was just harder for him to ensure that than it was for most parents in Lima.  
  
He stood and put his plate in the sink, then clasped Kurt's shoulder. Kurt's small, soft hand found its way on top and twitched, like he was trying not to cling to his father's hand. After a moment, Burt left without another word. He'd said all he needed to.  
  
* * * * *  
  
By the time he arrived at school the next morning, Kurt was so emotionally drained that he wasn't entirely sure he hadn't dreamt the entire thing. He wasn't actually sure he wasn't still asleep.  
  
"Hey." Puck sounded concerned as he passed him in the hall. "You okay?"  
  
"Yes," Kurt replied.  
  
"I sent you like a hundred messages."  
  
"I'm sorry. Long night."  
  
"What happened?"  
  
"I told my dad we're dating."  
  
It was the first time either of them had used the d-word in each other's presence. There was a hesitation in the air as each of them waited for the other to object or something. When neither said anything, Puck asked, "And?"  
  
"Okay. I think." Kurt still didn't understand what had changed his father's tone, why it had suddenly gone from defending Finn to just wanting him to be happy, but he wasn't complaining.  
  
"Cool."  
  
"And you?" Kurt asked. "How much trouble are you in for not doing what you didn't do?"  
  
"None," Puck replied.  
  
"We told Mr. Schue what actually happened," Quinn said as she walked over, Sam's arm around her shoulders.  
  
"Yeah. I don't think he would've believed just the two of us for some reason, but once everyone except Santana started speaking up he kinda figured we didn't all have time to conspire against Finn."  
  
"Hey you two," Mercedes grinned as she passed. He was still pissed at her for telling anyone - even Quinn - but he was too drained to protest.   
  
"So what was Finn's deal, anyway?" Artie asked as he wheeled up.  
  
Kurt and Puck exchanged a look. Neither of them could go into it now - possibly not ever, but definitely not right then.   
  
Kurt started to excuse himself to his own locker, but Puck's fingers found their way to his beltloop. "What have I told you about-" the smirk on Puck's face let him know that Puck knew exactly what he was doing. Stubborn pain in the ass.   
  
He wasn't a PDA kind of guy. Mostly people didn't want to be seen in public with him anyway. But Puck felt kind of like they should do something, a kind of 'fuck you' to Santana and her attempted blackmail or whatever. The fact that it would make Finn's blood boil if he saw it was kind of an added bonus, though not as satisfying as it might have otherwise been.   
  
After dragging Kurt by the beltloop to where he wanted him, Puck leaned forward. His hips pinned the smaller boy against the locker, and he rested his weight on his left forearm against the locker while his right hand lay in a relatively non-erogenous area of Kurt's thigh. Kurt looked small and nervous beneath him, almost more nervous than before the first time they fucked - though the cupcakes might have accounted for that. He looked like this was where things really started or some sappy shit like that, like this was a big moment he wasn't sure he was ready for.  
  
Puck leaned down and gave him a deep kiss, feeling Kurt practically melt against him. One hand wrapped around his waist while the other found its way to his bicep, and neither one could ignore the "awwww"s from the girls - especially Mercedes. She was pretty loud.  
  
Puck grinned as he pulled back-  
  
-just in time for the ecto-green slushie to slam into his face. The icy substance dripped down his neck, down the back of his shirt, but he did his best to keep from shivering or showing that he cared.  
  
It was Sam who spoke first:  
  
"Begun, the slushie war has."


End file.
